


Show and Tell

by killingsaray



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Biting, Does this count as Top!Maca?, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Piercings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Stigmatophilia, Tattoos, caravan sex, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: "Straightened posture, check.Shoulder rotation, check.Zulema really should get better at concealing her tell."ORThe one with the first time.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 24
Kudos: 151





	Show and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> for tara [fangxrlparrilla].

There has always been this… _spark_ between the two of them.

Even now, in the middle of an argument. 

Or rather in the series of moments after the argument, as they’re giving one another the silent treatment. Zulema is trying to find her fucking lighter and Macarena is purposely slamming things around as she pulls together the fixings for a mug of hot tea. 

She turns to the opposite counter where they keep the tea bags and abruptly runs directly into Zulema who had been looking there for her lighter. They nearly collide head-on but Zulema’s hand shoots out in a flash, palm flat against Maca’s collarbone to keep her away. And it takes everything in her not to shift her hand a few inches north, wrap her fingers around the blonde’s neck and squeeze tightly. Instead, she yanks her hand away and goes about her business of finding her lighter.

It’s too late, though. The moment has already happened. The one where their skin touches and electricity shoots through their bodies until each of them are practically vibrating with lust. 

Usually, Zulema can calm herself with a cigarette and by committing a crime of some sort. Anything really that will build up the adrenaline like that feeling she gets when she’s reaching her highest peak just before she free falls into pure ecstasy. Petty theft usually does the trick. And then her relief comes when she gets away with it. It’s like a mental orgasm and it can carry her through until the next time they touch.

Maca, though, needs a physical orgasm. Maybe two. She needs her mind to wander and her body to relax. To rid herself of the tension that they constantly seem to create in one another. So, she waits until Zulema leaves. Until she hears the car door slam shut and the engine turn over. 

And right there leaning against the kitchen counter, she slips her hand into her pajama shorts. 

* * *

They haven’t quite made up. Not that they need to in order to do what they do best. When they’re heisting, it’s almost as if they can read each other’s minds. 

Zulema supposes that’s what happens when two people live together in a caravan for nearly six months. 

Zulema is pulling off the blunt bob and fringe wig and Maca can’t stop herself from thinking just how beautiful she looks as a redhead. it suits her, for sure, but she also can’t help the exhale of relief she gets when she sees that raven hair that so perfectly matches Zulema’s mysterious badass aesthetic. She tosses the wig into the backseat and shrugs off the pastel blazer from her shoulders, thankful to be rid of it.

They undress and redress as quickly as they can and hop out of yet another stolen car, and as Maca begins to douse the car in gasoline, Zulema searches the pocket of her cargo pants for the pack of cigarettes and pack of matches she stashed there earlier. 

“Thank god.” She lights one, exhales smoke and then drops the match into the moonroof of the car. Flames roar to life in less than five seconds and within fifteen, it smells of aww barbecued leather. Over top of the car, Macarena catches Zulema’s eyes and the two of them have a silent conversation. 

_I love this._

_Me too._

They never say it to one another because that is too much like admitting that they make a good team. And some thoughts are better left unspoken. So, they go for easier banter as they start walking towards the getaway car they’ve stashed in the woods. 

“I need a shower.”

“You’ll have to get in line because I didn’t get one this morning.”

“That’s gross.”

“Yeah, well _someone_ used up all of the hot water.” Maca scoffs. Zulema grins and she wishes it wasn’t so dark outside because she’s sure her smug expression would only serve to piss Macarena off even more. They reach the car just in time for the first drops of rain to start falling. 

It’s pouring by the time they arrive home. Even if they get the car as close as possible to the caravan, they’ll still be soaked through by the time they reach the door.

When they push their way through it, Maca is already shrugging out of the oversized flannel and dropping it in the laundry basket. Her jeans are next, and as she shimmies out of them, Zulema sits at the kitchenette table and begins her task of untying her boots. 

Finally, Macarena is successful in pulling off the wet jeans and she stands to her full height, tossing them in the basket. Then, hands on her hips, she sighs theatrically. 

“Are we still mad at one another?” She asks. It’s the same question every time; her spoiled brat way of telling Zulema that she’s sorry for her part in the argument and she wants to move on. 

Zulema drops her boots to the floor and gives Macarena the attention she so clearly wants and that’s when she notices something. 

Drenched material of the thin camisole clinging to Macarena’s body, Zulema can _clearly_ make out the impressions of a straight barbell piercing pushed horizontally through either of Macarena’s nipples.

 _Fuck_. 

She realizes that she’s taking too long in her response and so Zulema just shakes her head once. “No.”

_Because really what else can she say?_

* * *

“What’s this?” Maca asks, leaning over the sink and softly touching a leaf on the small plant under the window. 

“Same plant that’s been there all summer,” Zulema says as she pulls a beer out of the icebox. She pauses for a split second, shakes her head once as if kicking herself mentally and then pulls out a second beer. 

“I haven’t seen it before.”

“I’m not surprised,” amusement present in Zulema’s voice, “you’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met.” 

That isn’t true. Macarena notices plenty of things. She sees the faraway look that Zulema gets when she thinks no one is looking. The way her eyes squint when she’s trying to figure out someone’s angle. 

And she definitely notices the way Zulema’s eyes have just dropped to Maca’s chest, covered only by a flowy, black singlet. Maca notices the way her own body responds, nipples hardening, pussy clenching involuntarily. And she _also_ notices how Zulema swallows harshly as she tries her hardest to undress Macarena with her eyes. 

“Is that for me?” Maca asks, holding her hand out for the beer. It does the trick of bringing Zulema back to the present moment where she pops off the twist cap and hands it over. “Anyway,” she continues, “I think I’m pretty observant.”

“Oh yeah?” Zulema asks because there’s really nothing else to say.

“Yeah. Like I can see that you want to ask about my piercings,” Maca shrugs. “If you want to see them, all you have to do is ask. Not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

_Straightened posture, check._

_Shoulder rotation, check._

Zulema really should get better at concealing her tell.

Zule’s voice drops another octave like it does when something arouses her. Usually it’s violence of some sort. Guns blazing. Blood being drawn. Or when someone says something brilliant and Zulema exposes herself as a sapiosexual by straightening her posture and rotating her shoulders slightly as if she’s just working out a kink. 

But this is different. 

This is Maca. 

This is something she _shouldn’t_ want because if she gets it, gets _her_ , everything changes. 

“So show me, _rubía_ ,” she says. She slouches further down in her seat, legs cocked open, beer in hand. “Slowly.”

So, Maca sets her beer on the counter. untucks her tank top from the waistband of her jeans and lifts it up.

 _Slowly_.

Over her head, it goes. And off, falling to the floor beside her feet. The same feet that are suddenly carrying her closer to the brunette until she is standing between Zulema’s spread legs, her tits on full display in the brunette’s direct line of sight. 

“When?” Zulema asks. 

“About a year before I came to get you from Cruz Del Norte.”

Zulema’s free hand is _itching_ to reach up and touch one. Maca can tell. 

She’s observant, after all. 

“Did they hurt?”

“What is this? Show and tell?”

Zulema scoffs. Then clears her throat. “What made you get them?”

“What made you get all of the ones in your ears?”

Dark green eyes shoot upward. “Sometimes, I like pain.”

Maca’s nipples harden. It’s not the answer she expects and she needs to regain the upper hand. 

Zulema watches as Maca’s hand comes up and she traces a soft fingertip down the curve of Zulema’s left ear, touching every piercing on the way down. Zulema’s eyes almost close completely at the contact and Maca grins. Zulema is more affected by her than she wants to let on. 

This might actually be fun.

Maca bends forward, her breasts nearly pressing against Zulema’s face. She lets her hand fall from Zule’s ear to her neck. Down her chest. Stomach. Until her hand is hovering over the brunette’s crotch where she suggestively wraps her palm around the neck of Zule’s beer bottle. 

A shaky exhale from Zulema is all she needs to decide that she wants to win this little game because if Zulema wants her, she’ll have to ask nicely. 

Zulema manages to summon the last of her resistance to mutter, “ _No vamos a follar_.”

She pulls the beer out of Zulema’s hand.

“Funny,” she says before taking a swig. “I don’t remember offering.”

And she leaves Zulema sitting there as she heads for the shower. 

A cold one will do her some good right now.

* * *

It’s been a week. 

The weather is getting cooler, especially at night, and yet, Macarena is still dressing as if it’s summer. Always with a never ending supply of those _fucking_ tanktops that show off her nipple piercings.

She knows.

_“You’re going to freeze to death.”_

_“I will not. You get so hot at night, it’s like sleeping with a freaking fox.”_

Really, Zulema is amused. She knows what is really happening here. Macarena is smart, but she’s not an evil genius like Zulema. The blonde has discovered a weakness in her brunette counterpart and instead of waiting for the opportune moment to use it against her, she’s made it her mission to tease Zulema instead. 

But everyone has a breaking point.

Zulema’s comes on Friday after they finish dinner. 

She’s almost finished washing the dishes when Macarena turns up the radio that’s been playing all day. The blonde pulls a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses off of the shelf. She fills them to the brim as Zulema places the last dish onto the drying rack. 

“Zule.”

Zulema is caught off guard by the nickname that she usually only hears from Saray. When she turns, there is a shot glass of amber liquid being held out to her. She accepts it, taps it against Maca’s and shoots it.

Eventually, they drink through half of the bottle, the music is even louder and they’re dancing in the trailer. It’s a rarity for Zulema to let go and have fun, but sometimes it’s necessary. It helps that Maca is suddenly grabbing Zulema’s shirt and pulling her close.

Her night shirt is being held closed by a single button and Zulema wonders just how hard she would have to tug for it to come undone. She doesn’t think about it much longer when Maca whirls around to the rhythm, hips rolling, arms in the air, and ass poking back against Zulema. She reaches to her left for another shot of tequila and a wedge of lemon that Zulema has cut up for them.

Spinning again, Maca pushes Zulema’s hair back and glides the cool lemon down the side of her neck. She shoots the alcohol and then leans forward to lick up the citrus juice off of Zulema’s skin. Zulema’s eyes close. Her hand that had been on the ceiling of the caravan as they danced dropped to the back of Maca’s head.

Lick turns to suck, and suck turns to bite.

Zulema’s fingers tighten in blonde hair and she yanks roughly, effectively pulling Maca away from her neck. They both know what is going to happen. Macarena has gone too far for this to stop.

Zulema presses forward, lips smashing against Maca’s. Her tongue dips inside of the blonde’s mouth and she tastes the sting of tequila cut with the bite of lemon and it’s somehow a metaphor for them.

Maca has Zulema’s shirt in a death grip as she tries simultaneously to push it up and off while pulling Zulema closer to her. She’s being backed up towards the counter. Her lower back slams against it, harshly, but she can’t be bothered to care. Not when Zulema’s hands are everywhere at once. On her face, her neck, her ass. 

And then they’re lifting her onto the cold surface. Glass shatters but she can barely hear it. She’s too focused on the way Zulema’s tongue feels entangled with her own, a promise of what’s to come. Her shirt is yanked open, the solo button lost forever.

Finally… _finally_ Zulema is rewarded with what she truly wants.

And holy fuck, it’s better than expected. Maca has changed her piercings from the standard straight barbell, to silver, heart-shaped guard barbells. And Zulema could’ve died right then.

She wastes no time in wrapping her lips around one nipple, sucking softly and Macarena can feel the sensation shoot straight to her pussy. Her excitement seeps into her panties as Zulema switches sides, lavishing her left nipple with the same attention. Shirt halfway off of her arms, Maca holds Zulema’s head there and laughs in her drunken euphoria.

Zulema can’t stop there, her mouth travels further down her torso until she meets the resistance of Macarena’s little boy shorts. Her hands fingers tuck into the elastic and she tugs at them. Maca lifts her hips to assist and the moment Zulema gets them off, she roughly kisses Macarena once more. Then she hooks her arms under the blonde’s knees and pulls her to the very edge of the counter, resting Macarena’s legs over her shoulders.

And she tucks into the meal set before her.

The moment her tongue glides up Maca’s wet center, they both groan.

“ _Zulema_ ,” Maca moans, voice competing with the stereo. One hand keeps her steady on the counter, and the other hand falls to the top of Zulema’s head. 

The brunette drags her tongue up and down, dipping in and out occasionally, working Macarena into a frenzy before she latches onto her clit and sucks. Chin already soaked with Macarena’s arousal, Zulema teases a fingertip at her entrance and Maca’s entire body jolts at the feeling.

“Yes!”

That’s all the permission that Zulema needs before she slips her middle finger inside. Maca clenches around her and Zulema drags her finger out, slowly, feeling every single ridge. When she presses back in, another finger has joined the first and Zulema corkscrews them in quick succession. Macarena’s moans are higher pitched now and she’s squeezing Zulema’s fingers in a fucking chokehold.

Then there are three fingers pumping furiously under Zulema’s chin and with her tongue swirling perfectly around Maca’s clit, it’s not long before she Maca is attempting to pump her hips upward.

“ _Please don’t stop! Please don’t stop! Zulema!_ ”

In the rapid moments before she comes, Macarena is almost sure she can taste sound and smell colors and nothing makes sense except the swelling wave of pleasure in the pit of her stomach. Her voice gets caught in her throat and she can hardly breathe. But when Zulema reaches up and pinches Maca’s nipple, tugging gently on the piercing, colors burst behind her eyes and her entire body bows forward. Her eyes wrench shut and the only word she knows is a name.

“ _Zulema_!”

Zulema works her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, smiling as Macarena’s body jerks when she pulls her fingers out. The brunette thinks there will be a moment’s peace where she can revel smugly in her accomplishment. Perhaps even have a cigarette.

But there isn’t one.

The second that Macarena’s feet are steady on the floor, she is after Zulema. She kisses the brunette, tasting herself on her tongue. Cleans up the mess she’s made on Zulema’s chin. And all she wants is more.

More of Zulema. More touching. More sounds. More skin.

_ More _ .

And it’s then that she’s aware that Zulema still has on a bra and her cargo pants. She makes quick work of ridding the brunette of her brassiere, but only gets as far as unbuttoning Zulema’s pants before she can’t take it anymore.

Maca’s hand slips into the dark pants and under the waistband of her underwear. She’s curious, really, to see if Zulema is a quiet lover or if she’s--.

“Fuck,” Zulema breathes when she feels Maca’s fingers slide freely through wet skin. 

She’s not quiet, but she’s shy. Doesn’t want Macarena to see her face, so she hides it in Maca’s neck, sucking on the blonde’s pulse point. She bites down when Maca’s fingers start circling her clit. It’s soft, at first. Not quite teasing, more of a test. To see exactly what Zulema likes.

The quicker her fingers move, the harder Zulema bites down on whatever inch of skin she can find. It’s when Maca presses two fingers inside of her and curls them towards her G-spot that Zulema cries out and grabs Macarena’s wrist.

The woman is much tighter than Macarena thinks she would be and it gives her a sick pleasure in knowing that she’s the first lover that Zulema has had in god knows how long. The more Zulema relaxes, the easier it becomes for Maca to pump her fingers in and out. The blonde presses her thumb to Zulema’s clit, and Zulema can feel it.

That hot, malleable,  _ delicious _ building of tension within her muscles. It wraps itself around her, making it harder to stop her fingers from squeezing Macarena’s breast.

To stop her other hand from slamming against the counter behind her.

“Is this what you wanted?” Maca murmurs.

“Fuck. Yes.”

_ Keep talking. Keep fucking talking _ , Zulema wants to say. But she can’t. Because Macarena is suddenly whispering the filthiest things into her ear.

“Did you think about me in your bunk at night? Did you think about fucking me? Making me yours?” 

“Oh god.” Her pussy flutters around Maca’s fingers and the blonde notices. She grins.

“Oh, I get it.” She presses a soft kiss to Zule’s ear. Dips her tongue inside. “You want me to say I’m yours.” Maca chuckles.

“Maca,” chokes Zulema. 

Just a little more. She is so close.

“I’ll let you know something else.” Maca breathes. She circles her thumb around Zulema’s clit while still pumping her fingers in and out. “You. Are. Mine.”

And Zulema is  _ gone _ . 

Head to the ceiling, she shouts her pleasure to the Heavens and Macarena fucks her right through it all.

Their breathing slows and eventually, Zulema finally gets her cigarette. She finishes half of it before Maca takes it from her, finishing it. Zulema turns the radio down and reaches for her t-shirt.

“What are you doing?” Macarena asks.

“About to get a shower.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” Maca tells her, walking her backwards towards the bed. She pushes Zulema down onto it and traddles the older woman’s lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. “ _ Quiero saborearte _ .”

_ Fuck _ . It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next morning, Zuleme awakens to the smell of coffee and breakfast being made. She shifts in bed to find Maca at the stove, large book in one hand and spatula in the other.

“ _Que haces_?”

“Stigmatophilia,” Macarena reads aloud from one of Zulema’s many psychology texts as she scrambles a few eggs for breakfast, “is the sexual attraction to a person with piercings or tattoos.”

Zulema rolls her eyes, throws on a t-shirt and refuses to give Macarena a reaction as she searches for a mug for coffee. Arm outstretched beside Maca’s head as she reaches for the last clean mug, she notices that Maca has stopped talking. 

She looks over and sees that the blonde is focused on the gothic style tattoo that wraps around her bicep. 

“ _Que_?”

Macarena clears her throat. “Nothing, I—… I just get it now.”

Zulema simply grins.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> something about this feels a little rushed, so I may consider rewriting this or adding a second part eventually.


End file.
